


Frangipani

by delighted



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, slight spoiler for S4E19
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-28
Updated: 2015-11-28
Packaged: 2018-05-03 19:53:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5304689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delighted/pseuds/delighted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Danny lies awake early in the morning, and remembers how he and Steve became a thing....</p>
            </blockquote>





	Frangipani

**Author's Note:**

> This story kind of jumps over some of my earlier stories I have yet to tidy up and post, but I love this one, and I was in the mood for it....
> 
> *Very slight spoiler-ishness for S4E19.*

The sun was barely up, just the first lightening of the sky—almost purple—that foretold the coming of a new day, and he knew he should try to go back to sleep. Next to him, Steve slept peacefully, which was such a blessing Danny felt like offering up a sacrifice of some ridiculous tropical fruit to the gods of allowing Navy SEALs peaceful rest. The window was open just slightly, and the sound of the waves drifted in along with the soft scent of plumeria and hints of briny, still cool air.

Those sounds and smells had become so intertwined with his feelings for Steve they were almost inseparable. The relentless sound of the waves was fittingly mirrored in Steve’s relentless pursuit of Danny—first as his partner, then as his lover. Danny joked that he’d never stood a chance, but really, he hadn’t wanted one. Just as Steve set him off, so often, he kept him going—and Danny had finally admitted that, though it had taken 14 tons of rubble on top of them to do it. But that part of him that was always looking ahead to how all good things would end—that had found its match in Steve. In the ceaseless, relentless push back, the constant testing, the unwavering gaze. It pushed Danny, kept him on track, kept him moving, kept him _going_.

At some point, Danny had come to realize the sea was so like Steve, reassuring in its consistency, soothing in its relentlessness, buoying him, propelling him, keeping him afloat. The sound of the waves didn’t keep him awake now, though that had taken some time.

Steve smelled like the sea, even just a little, almost all the time. It was like he was so soaked in it, practically from birth, that it could never wash completely out. Danny suspected that salt water ran in Steve’s veins.

The plumeria… that was more complicated. There was a tree below the bedroom window, and on hot evenings or when there was a breeze, the fragrance wafted up into the room. The first time Danny has slept in the bed in Steve’s room, he’d smelled the plumeria. He’d been badly beat up by a suspect and Steve had been too anxious to leave him alone—in case he had a concussion and in case the suspect tried to finish what he’d started, so Steve had made Danny sleep next to him. Danny hadn’t even tried to resist, which had spooked Steve.

The second time Danny spent the night in Steve’s bed had been the perfect reverse of the situation. He’d refused to leave Steve’s side for a minute, and he hadn’t slept at all that night, but spent the hours watching Steve, afraid for him but more afraid of how he was feeling. The plumeria had been an accompaniment to that strain, that heartache.

The third and fourth times were subtle variations on the same theme, less dire in need, but it had become a comfort to each when concerned for the other. Both those times, the scent of plumeria had been there, a subtle but persistent note in the background.

The fifth time was pure comfort. It had been a rough case, a horrible loss, and they hadn’t been able to face not being together. By that point, the smell of plumeria had begun to signify to Danny being close to a sleeping Steve, and that took on a whole layer of meaning that would forever be linked with the ubiquitous flower in Danny’s mind.

The first time they slept together wasn’t actually in Steve’s bed, and the absence of plumeria had bothered Danny.

The second time they “made love”—Steve’s words, not Danny’s—Steve had picked a single flower for Danny. (He’d already suspected the smell of plumeria had become a thing for Danny, and wanted to test his hypothesis. He’d been right.)

After that, it became a regular thing with them. Steve would bring Danny single plumeria flowers, plucked from the tree outside HQ, or from a suspect’s yard, one time even stopping in the middle of a chase to pick a particularly lovely apricot colored one (“Danno, I knew you’d catch him!”). Sometimes the team would get leis as part of a ceremony to thank them after a high profile case—wealthy parents were especially grateful when troublesome children were rescued—and Steve would always finagle Danny getting a plumeria one.

One day, after a particularly rough week wherein Steve had been especially “reckless and stupid”—Danny’s words, not Steve’s—Steve brought home a small plumeria tree and planted it outside the front door.

Danny was brought out of his reverie by the fluttering of Steve’s eyelashes. The sun was over the horizon and the purple sky had faded to pink. As Steve opened his eyes, Danny felt his heart turn over with such a wave of emotion he was certain he’d never grow accustomed to. “’Morning, babe,” he whispered.

“’Morning, Danno,” Steve slurred sleepily.

Danny leaned over and kissed his forehead and Steve closed his eyes, his face the picture of pleased contentment.

Taking a breath full of ocean, plumeria, and Steve, Danny settled against his partner and drifted off back to sleep.  

 


End file.
